


A Bad Day's Work

by Queenafoster



Category: Jake and the Fatman, Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenafoster/pseuds/Queenafoster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrong place, wrong time</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Don’t turn around, Styles. You won’t make it.” The unknown voice was accompanied by the sharp prick of a knife at his ribcage. “Nice and easy, and no one gets hurt.”

Nick felt a light sting on the back of his shoulder just as a strong hand gripped his neck. One fist squeezed his right arm as another slipped in to firmly grasp his left elbow; someone was on both sides and they were pulling him through the throng of people.

Nick wondered briefly who Styles was, but he didn’t have time to give it much thought as his new _acquaintances_ were guiding him through the crowd. A crowd full of women and kids. He didn’t dare start anything where some innocent bystander might get hurt. As they moved, Nick vaguely noticed that his eyelids were fighting gravity, and his feet didn’t want to keep moving. He was having some trouble keeping up with the two men pushing and pulling him through the people, but no one seemed to notice.

“Excuse us, our friend’s not feeling well.”

Well, that was true enough; Nick felt terrible, and all effort was fixed on keeping his head up. Strangely, it wasn’t cooperating on even this most basic task. Oh, yeah, the sting. Must’ve been a tranq of some kind. Nick was kind of proud of himself for figuring that out. It wasn’t Murray level, but still…

He managed to get his head up again to see where they were going. Somehow, they’d made it to the parking lot and were heading toward an Oldsmobile. An otherwise non-descript silvery green four-door. Metallic green? Who did that? He started to mention to these idiots what an ugly car it was.

“Face forward, Styles. I’m not telling ya again.” Nick was reminded of the knife at his ribs with a sharp poke. Well, fine. If they didn’t want to hear about their ugly car, Nick would just keep his trap shut. And whatever else they wanted to know, well, too bad. They could just forget about hearing it from Nick Ryder.

Then the back door of the ugly car was open, and his new _friends_ were shoving him face forward into the back seat. He tried to pull his arms around to break the fall, but the two faceless gorillas didn’t let go. Nick found himself face down across the back seat with his hands pulled back and quickly tied. His feet were folded in, and a sack yanked over his head. That was pretty much the last thing he remembered…

*****

Cody glanced at the nameless faces of the crowd once again, waiting for his partners. They were on the lookout for a flasher that had done his number on several old ladies and small children. The last little girl happened to be the granddaughter of a wealthy man who’d put up a reward large enough to persuade Murray that the agency should try to find the perp. And Cody, feeling particularly protective of small children, and Nick, feeling particularly protective of old ladies, were pretty easy to convince. Not to mention the nice, big reward that would help the agency’s bottom line.

They had a sketch of the man that Joanna had provided along with the knowledge that the man favored crowds and events. He’d done the deed at the beach, a minor league baseball game, a charity fundraiser, and an outdoor wedding reception to name just a few of his venues. So they had watched the paper for advertised events likely to attract a crowd and settled on this outdoor market. It turned out to be a lot bigger than they’d expected, and they decided to split up to cover more ground. Cody sighed, remembering the conversation.

_“I had no idea it would be this big, guys. Look at all these booths! These are actual farmers who raised all these fruits and vegetables. Isn’t that amazing? And all these crafts! I bet that woman actually weaved…? Wove…? Those blankets. Is it weaved or wove? Do either of you know the right conjugation for weave? Guys?”_

_Cody glanced at Nick and saw the half lost look that Nick occasionally got when Murray took off on one of his tangents. Cody shook his head slightly, “I don’t know, Boz; either or? Or neither nor?”_

_Murray froze for half a second before his face transformed into the goofy grin he got whenever he found something completely hilarious. “Either or or neither nor! Oh, that’s very good, Cody. Very good! Either or or neither nor!” He bounced his head back and forth as he repeated the phrase in a sing-song voice and manner._

_Cody glanced back to see Nick stare in disbelief for a second, then shake off Murray’s baffling amusement and refocus on the crowd with a frustrated breath. It did seem a bit overwhelming._

_Cody sighed, “How are we gonna find this guy in all these people? Any ideas, Nick?”_

_“I don’t know, man. We gotta find one perv in what? A few thousand people? From a sketch that may or may not even look like him. And on top of that, we don’t know that he’s even here. This could be a complete waste of time.”_

_“Well, that’s not exactly the case, Nick. We know he’s a male, approximately twenty-five to fifty years of age. That cuts out all of the women, children, and elderly. Plus, we know he’s white, so that excludes anyone who’s black, Hispanic, or Asian. And he should be wearing a long brown trench coat and have bare legs.”_

_Cody caught Nick’s half-annoyed, half-amused look before his partner answered. “Ya know, Murray, you’re right. And since it’s gonna be so easy to spot him, I’m thinking I should just go get_ Mimi _and be ready to cut off whatever escape route he takes when you and Cody chase him outta here. But don’t make your move until you hear her rotors, okay?”_

_“Nick, I really don’t think that’s necessary—“_

_Cody interrupted, “Murray, what Nick’s trying to say with his poor excuse for a sense of humor is that even with all those defining characteristics, all the rest of these people are pretty good camouflage. And you have to actually look at them to decide that they aren’t the bad guy.”_

_Nick rolled his eyes at Cody, but he aimed a look of apology at Murray who shrugged and nodded at both of them. “You’re right, of course. Just the sheer number of people here makes identification problematic. Maybe we should split up to better cover the market.”_

_Cody didn’t like the idea of separating and one glance at Nick made clear that his partner didn’t think much of it either. But Cody didn’t see any other choice; there were simply too many people, too much ground to cover, too many places this guy could strike. If they stayed together, odds were they would miss him…if he was even there. Cody caught Nick’s eyes, seeing his reluctance, but knowing that he had come to the same conclusion. A slight shake of Nick’s head was the final sign of displeasure even as he shrugged and nodded agreement at Murray who was eyeing them both in question._

_Cody looked at the map of the market. “Okay, I’ll take the aisles near the beach; Murray, you take the middle, and Nick, you work the ones closest to the parking lot.”_

_Murray nodded, “What if we see him?”_

_Cody took a deep breath; he’d been wondering about that himself. He and Nick could probably take the guy one on one, but Murray might be in trouble unless he pulled a gun. And in a public place with all these innocent bystanders, that wasn’t a good idea._

_Nick narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the crowd, “Well, there’s cops around. If we can’t find each other, we can always tackle the guy and yell for help. Boz, you just jump on his back and hang on, okay?”_

_Cody nodded; that seemed like as good a plan as any. They would still get credit for the collar and should get the reward. And it wasn’t like Murray lacked the courage to take down a perp…only the coordination._

_Murray nodded agreement. “So when and where should we meet if we don’t find him?”_

_Cody shrugged slightly, “Right back here in, say, an hour?”_

_“Ah, no way, man. I’m never gonna be able to tell all these farm booths apart. I need something easier to remember.”_

_Cody rolled his eyes at Nick. His partner had a quick, agile mind that he frequently disguised by playing the dumb jock, but he still didn’t like to concentrate on the kind of little details that enraptured Murray. “Okay, Nick, we’re in aisle five. How about we meet here by the booth with the…” Cody glanced around till his eyes focused on one seller, “…by the booth with the tin can jewelry.”_

_Nick and Murray both followed his gaze to a woman manning tables set with all sizes and shapes of tin cans. On her tables, she displayed a number of very…_ unique _pieces. Some people might consider it art, but Cody’s mother would probably just call it junk._

_“Okay, by the tin can lady in an hour.”_

That was the last he’d seen of his partners, and Cody was trying not to let the tin can lady catch his eye. She might think he was shopping for a gift for someone special. Or God forbid, himself.

By the time Murray walked up, Cody was across the aisle at a stained glass booth. He’d had to move just to get away from the tin can lady and her encouraging, hopeful eyes.

“Sorry I’m late, Cody. I ran into a couple of the _Contessa_ girls—Mindy and Tonya. They asked about you and Nick by the way. I showed them the sketch of the flasher, but neither of them had seen him. Of course, they hadn’t really been looking for him, per se, but a man in a trench coat on a hot day like this would be pretty conspicuous, don’t you think?

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe this market wasn’t the best idea for his next showing.”

Murray’s face froze again as he absorbed Cody’s comment then his mouth opened in silent cackle. “For his next showing? Oh, that’s just perfect, Cody. ‘For his next showing.’ And he’s a flasher and always showing his—” He got serious very abruptly, clearly remembering how the guy got his jollies around little kids and old ladies. “—well, you know.”

Cody glanced at his watch again. He’d actually expected Nick to be waiting on them. Nick hated crowds, hated shopping, and hated the three of them working alone. But here it was twenty minutes after their appointed meeting time, and he still wasn’t back.

Murray looked around, “You know, I really thought Nick would fuss at me for being late, but I made it back before he did. I guess we get to tease him, huh?

Cody searched the faces of the crowd. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You don’t suppose he found the flasher, do you?”

Cody tried to ignore a ripple of instinctual unease. “I don’t know, Boz. Seems like if he did, he’d have sent someone to let us know.”

“That’s true. He wouldn’t let us stand around, knowing we’d be waiting.”

 _And worrying,_ Cody added silently. Nick was a worrier himself, and consequently, he didn’t like other people to worry about him unnecessarily. If he was able to get word to them, he would have. And Cody’s ripple got just a bit bigger. He checked his watch again; thirty minutes late.

Murray was wringing his hands, and his eyes showed concern when Cody caught his glance again. “Maybe we should go look for him.”

“Yeah.”

They strode with purpose down the aisles closer to the parking lot. Cody inspected individual faces and the crowd as a whole. He wasn’t getting any vibes to indicate unrest or fear or even excitement. Any or all of those emotions would be expected if there had been a fight or police action. But all he picked up was enjoyment of the day, anticipation of shopping, and complaining kids wanting to go home. No Nick.

His unease was starting to tip over into plain old anxiety by the time they got to the parking lot. He glanced at Murray who was showing open alarm at this point. Boz shaded his eyes as he searched the parking lot for any sign.

“There he is! Cody! There he is!” Murray pointed across several rows of cars…at Nick, walking through the parking lot.

“Nick!” Cody took off jogging to catch his partner, hearing Murray pounding behind him. As he approached Nick, Cody found himself both relieved to have found him…and angry that he was evidently leaving. What the heck was going on and why hadn’t he included his partners in his plans? “Nick!”

And why wasn’t he stopping when he could surely hear them?

“Nick!”

Cody finally snagged his partner’s arm and yanked him around. “What the hell, Nick?”

His partner’s reaction was severe even for a vet. In a flash, Nick pulled a gun, bringing it to bear on Cody. “Hold it right there. Back off and get your hands up.”

Cody stared at the gun and instinctively lifted his hands in the universal gesture of surrender, but the coldness of his partner’s voice scared him. “Easy, buddy. It’s just me and Murray. Easy.”

Suspicious, cold eyes flicked over Cody’s shoulder. “That’s great, but I don’t know _you and Murray_.”

Forcing his eyes from the gun, Cody stared into Nick’s icy blue eyes, worried about the lack of recognition, when he heard Murray’s puzzled voice.

“Nick, what are you wearing?”  

Cody took a small step back and was finally able to pull his gaze from Nick’s unrecognizable eyes to take in the whole look. He was wearing a tailored gray suit, a silk shirt, a narrow striped tie, and Italian loafers. And it suddenly registered that he’d pulled the gun from a shoulder holster inside the jacket. When they’d left the _Riptide_ , Nick had been wearing jeans, a polo, and sneakers. If he’d had a gun, it was probably in an ankle holster as that’s the only place it could have been hidden. “Where’d you get these clothes, buddy?”

“When did you change?”

“And why?”

“Where’d you get this car?” Nick was standing by a convertible Porsche.

Nick’s gaze bounced back and forth between Cody and Murray as the questions rolled out. His face went from hostile to confused, and he reholstered his weapon. “I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else.”

Cody was becoming seriously alarmed as he heard Murray exclaim, “Cut it out, Nick, this isn’t funny. Cody and I want to know what’s going on. First of all, you kept us waiting over half an hour, and then we find you getting ready to leave us here. In clothes we’ve never seen before…although this is a _really_ nice suit. I didn’t know you had anything like this. Did you get it at the mall?”

Murray had reached out to finger the dark gray fabric, but Nick jerked his arm back and firmly pushed Murray’s hand away. “Look, you guys have made a mistake. I’m not Nick, and I don’t know Nick.”

Cody flashed on Sheila and Marcy flipping back and forth and worried briefly that Nick had somehow developed a similar problem, but surely they would have had clues before now. He and Cody had been roommates of one fashion or another for more than ten years all told and never a sign of anything weird like that. No, something was definitely wrong here, and Cody was starting to believe this guy actually might _not_ be his partner. “Okay, look. Can I just get my wallet and show you a photo?”

The guy-who-probably-wasn’t-Nick eyed Cody with distrust then nodded once. “Slowly.”

Cody carefully reached back and pulled out his wallet with his thumb and index finger, wiggling the other three to show they were empty. He opened it and flipped past pictures of a couple of girls he used to date and pulled out a photo of the three partners taken by Giovanna on the _Arrivederci_. He handed it over and prayed that this man really wasn’t Nick. If he _was_ , then they had serious problems that had nothing to do with finding a flasher.

The man glanced at the photo and then stared harder. “He does kind of look like me.” He blinked in consternation and handed it back to Cody. “I see how you might make a mistake.”

Murray pushed his glasses back up his nose, peering close in confusion. “You mean you really aren’t Nick?”

“I’m really not. Jake Styles. I’m a special investigator for the P.A.’s office.” He flashed a badge identifying him as a lieutenant in the L.A.P.D.

Cody was at once both glad that Nick didn’t have serious mental problems and worried as hell that his partner was still missing.

Murray put out his hand, “I’m Murray Bozinsky, and this is Cody Allen. We’re the Riptide Detective Agency in King Harbor, and we were here trying to find that flasher who’s been scaring people along the coast. And our third partner is Nick Ryder who looks remarkably like you…and seems to have disappeared on us.”

As Cody shook Styles’s hand, he started cataloging the easily dismissed, minor differences between Styles and Nick. Generally the same size and build, Styles might be a bit leaner but not by much…could just be the cut of the suit. Same hair but Nick generally wore his a little longer. The eyes were similar in color, but there the differences were pronounced. Nick showed every emotion in his eyes, but Styles’s were remote and unreadable.

And of course, the clothes. Nick shopped at J. C. Penney or Sears when he needed something decent and hated putting on a jacket and tie. Jake Styles’s custom suit fit like a glove, and that pair of shoes probably cost more than the entire wardrobes of Nick, Cody, and Murray put together.

“So, your partner was here today?”

Cody eyed Styles and nodded briefly, “Yeah, we split up to cover more of the crowd. He had the aisles closest to the parking lot.”

Styles stared back at the open-air market. “I was supposed to meet an informant today at the head of aisle two.” He paused and looked back at Cody and Murray, “I was delayed, and he never showed.”

Cody’s worry formed a cold ball in the center of his stomach. “Would anyone else know you were meeting him here?”

“Not from my side, but maybe from his. He was pretty nervous. Could have been followed.”

Murray’s eyes got big behind the lenses, “You think your informant may have mistaken Nick for you? And if your informant had anyone on his tail, they might have made the same mistake.”

Styles winced slightly, “The same mistake you guys made. My informant is missing; so is your partner. I don’t like the coincidence.”

Cody felt his stomach turn. Since 1970, Nick Ryder had been the most stable, solid, dependable person in Cody’s life, and now he was missing. This was not an acceptable situation. Cody looked at Murray and saw the same worried concern, and then he turned back to Jake Styles who seemed to be studying the market and figuring options. “Now what?”

Styles pulled out his keys. “You guys go back to your office, and I’ll call when I find anything. You’re in the book, right?”

Cody flashed a glance at Murray who looked alarmed and about to object. Cody took care of that for both of them. He pushed into Styles’s space, “Forget it. Nick’s—“

“Now you listen and listen good; I realize you’re P.I.s and all, but this is an official investigation. I’m not gonna let you—“

“No, you listen. Nick is our best friend, and he’s been my partner since ‘Nam. If you think for one second that I’m gonna wait around for someone else to find him—someone who doesn’t even know him—then you better think again. We’ll dog your every step. And don’t think we can’t do it.”

Murray piped up from behind, “That’s right.”

Styles’s lips twitched, and Cody thought he might be seeing a little of the real man under the cold façade. “That might be considered obstruction. I could arrest you for that.”

“We’ll make bail.”

Styles scanned the market and parking lot again. “You guys are ex-military?”

Cody tried to figure where he was going with this, but whatever, it seemed like a break. “Yeah; all three of us, and Nick’s still in the reserves.”

Styles seemed to be weighing his decision. “Okay. Why don’t we go back to my office and talk about this. Where are you guys parked?”

Cody lifted his chin in the direction of the Jimmy.

Styles glanced over and then back. “I’ll wait for you by the entrance to the parking lot, and you can follow me, all right?”

Cody nodded once, “We’ll be right behind you.” He and Murray headed for the next row. When they got to the truck, he glanced back to see Styles standing by the Porsche watching them. He threw up a hand and got in the car as Cody unlocked his door.

He reached over to let Murray in. His partner settled in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Styles backed the Porsche out of the space. “What do you think, Cody?”

“I think Nick’s in trouble, and we’re gonna stick to this guy like glue till we find him.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

The Prosecuting Attorney’s office was smaller than Cody expected. Or maybe they had more than one office, and this was just the one where Styles worked. The room was long and narrow and crowded with too many desks. Dozens of people were moving back and forth, calling out questions, talking on the phone in loud voices. The whole scene could only be described as controlled chaos.

Jake Styles moved through the room like an eel, sliding sideways past people like he could predict their movements. Cody’s long legs matched him stride for stride, and behind them, he could hear Murray’s stumbling, half-jog as he kept pace.

Jake tapped a knuckle on the corner of one desk as they slipped past, and a young blond man looked up expectantly. As the three of them moved past, he stood and followed them through a doorway to another office.

“He’s in a bad mood, Jake.” The secretary was an overweight, middle-aged woman with fuzzy orange hair who looked pretty intimidating to Cody, but Styles didn’t even blink.

“When is he not, Gertrude?” He pushed open the inner door that led to a quiet, spacious, nicely decorated office. Pretty surprising considering the hubbub that they’d just come through.

“Where the hell have you been, Jake?” A voice barked from a large desk sitting in the middle of the office.

Styles strode directly to the desk. “There was a traffic accident on the freeway, I was delayed, and Reston wasn’t there.”

Behind the desk in an enormous leather chair sat the legendary ‘Fatman,’ J. L. McCabe, prosecuting attorney for Los Angeles. His eyes narrowed briefly, but Cody couldn’t tell if he was concerned, upset, or trying to puzzle out why the informant didn’t show. “Any ideas?”

“A couple. J. L., I’d like to introduce the Riptide Detective Agency out of Redondo Beach, Cody Allen and Murray Bozinsky. Guys, this is J. L. McCabe and Derek Mitchell.”

The tall, lanky blond nodded hello, and Cody lifted his chin to acknowledge the greeting as Murray reached to shake his hand. The Fatman gave them a quick once over but said nothing.

Styles looked at Cody, “Show him the photo.”

Cody pulled the picture from his shirt pocket and passed it over to the prosecuting attorney who looked at it and then focused in concentration. Mitchell leaned over his shoulder to see.

“That’s Nick Ryder, their third partner, and all three of them were at the market looking for that flasher who’s been scaring the old ladies and little kids over on the coast. Their partner is missing now, too.”

Cody could almost see the wheels turning in McCabe’s head as he considered the possibilities. “You think someone mistook Ryder for you?”

“His own partners did. They chased me across the parking lot, thinking I was him.”

Cody thought that made them sound like Class A idiots, but Nick and Jake could be twins. And he and Murray were probably the only people on the planet who really understood that right now.

“So maybe Reston saw Ryder, thought he was you.”

Styles nodded once, “And if Reston was followed and they saw him talking to Ryder…” His voice trailed off as McCabe raised one brow in response.

Mitchell had been quiet until this point. “If Reston talked to your partner, whoever was following would have to take them both to make sure the information didn’t get back to Mr. McCabe.”

Cody hadn’t wanted to think about the possibilities—had avoided doing so, knowing that all or none could be equally true. But now he had no choice. “That could be accomplished just as easily if they—” He steeled himself, “If they killed Nick.”

Murray grabbed Cody’s forearm and breathed out a shocked, “No,” under his breath.

Cody turned to him helplessly, not wanting to believe it either, but… “It’s true.”

Styles didn’t have Nick’s warmth, but there was compassion in his eyes. “I don’t think so. At least not right away. If they’d killed him, we’d have found the body. There would have been a panic with all those people around. And guys like these wouldn’t hesitate to do that.” He tapped the corner of the desk absently, “No, I think they probably took him, maybe Reston too, if they were able to catch him. They might kill your partner later, but before that, I think they’ll want to find out what Reston told him.”

Cody searched Jake’s eyes, looking for false hope. What he said made sense, but maybe Cody was grasping at straws. He glanced at McCabe and Mitchell and finally Murray. Murray… Cody trusted Murray completely, more than anyone except Nick. And he was the smartest man Cody had ever met. Murray narrowed his eyes slightly, considering the possibilities, and then he looked back at Cody and nodded, “That seems logical.”

McCabe picked up a long fat cigar from a nearby ashtray and leaned back in his chair, “Tell me; would your partner give them the information?”

Cody breathed out a wry laugh, “No.”

“What if they got rough with him?”

Cody glanced at Murray who sighed in resignation as he folded his arms and shook his head slowly. Cody looked back that McCabe. “Especially not then. Nick is one of the most stubborn men on the planet, and it only gets worse when he’s mad. The only way they’ll get anything out of him is with a lever…maybe if they threatened an innocent or one of us.”

McCabe and Mitchell looked back at Styles who scratched his forehead with a thumb. “That might give us some time to work…to try and find him.”

“And still get Reston’s information.”

Cody drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. Now that everyone thought Nick might still be alive, Cody was impatient to find him before—

Well, he was just impatient to find him. “What information? What was this Reston guy supposed to give you?”

McCabe and Styles held a silent conversation as Cody stood there, stubbornly determined that he wasn’t leaving that room without something to work with.

McCabe fastened his eyes on Cody and Murray and rolled his cigar silently. “A ledger. You boys ever heard of Ray Cinnamon?”

Cody glanced at Murray and caught the immediate concern. “Sure. Cinnamon runs loan-sharking for Paul Smelcer.”

Styles nodded in brief approval, “Reston worked for Cinnamon and kept a shadow ledger of everything he’s done for the last three years. Someone flipped on Reston, and now he’s flipping on Cinnamon. We’re hoping to bag the entire network with that ledger.”

“He was supposed to give it to you today?”

“More likely just tell me where it is to prove he’s got the goods. If he gave that ledger to your partner, I think Cinnamon’s men would have just taken it and left. Without it, it’s one crook’s word against another’s; no proof.”

Mitchell folded his arms thoughtfully, “If Reston told your partner where he hid the ledger, Nick might not know the importance of the information. What’s to stop him from spilling the beans unknowingly?”

Cody shook his head slightly, “Won’t matter. Nick will keep his mouth shut just on principle. He doesn’t need a reason.”

*****

Nick tried to raise his head though he wasn’t sure why it mattered. He couldn’t see anything around the blindfold even if he did get his head to cooperate. That left his stupid pride as the only thing he could blame it on. Well, so be it; Cody always said he had more pride than sense. This just proved that Cody occasionally knew what he was talking about.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. Cody Allen’s blond good looks and easy going personality hid a deceptive intelligence that easily matched and frequently bested Nick’s own twisted mind. One of the reasons he and Cody had always worked so well together—even from the first days of their friendship—was that they thought so much alike. They just _got_ each other. That had come in very handy in the jungle and the MPs and was even truer in their business. Knowing what the other was thinking had saved their hides many times.

Of course, Cody was more open and friendly and charming and cooperative whereas Nick tended to be closed, rude, insensitive, and stubborn. Not much Nick could say about that. Fact was fact.

Well. Now that Nick had managed to distract himself for a few seconds by considering the differences between him and Cody, he was back to the matter at hand; trying to figure out how to get himself out of this mess. The mess he had no idea how he’d gotten into. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what the mess was. All he knew for certain was that someone seemed to think his name was ‘Styles,’ and they wanted to know what Reston had told him. Whoever Reston was.

And they were willing to beat the crap out of Nick to get the information.

The two thugs who’d been whaling on him were breathing hard. Nice that Nick could help them get their workout. “Look, Styles, make this easier on yourself and just tell us what Reston said.”

Nick leaned as far to the left as his bonds allowed. He tried to get enough energy to spit out the blood so that it wouldn’t land on his shirt. He was suddenly struck by the stupid thought that his clothes were probably already ruined. Still, it would give him an extra second or two if he could manage what suddenly seemed like a huge accomplishment. It was right up there with holding up his head.

He slowly turned back to where the two thugs were standing—again his stupid pride in action—“Who’s Reston?”

Suddenly, his head was yanked back by a hand entangled in his hair. He could smell garlic on the thug’s breath. “You think you’re tough? You better listen, Styles, and listen good. You ain’t so pretty anymore, and if you don’t start cooperating, you ain’t gonna be breathing so good neither.”

Nick mustered up a sneer—which would’ve been easier if his lips weren’t split. After all, he had a rep—closed, rude, insensitive, and stubborn. “In second grade, Miss Overton told my mom that I didn’t play well with others.” And then he nailed the guy with another mouthful of bloody spit. He knew he hit him dead center because Nick’s head was flung away like he had the worst case of head lice ever. Then the guy caught him with a right cross that almost knocked Nick’s head clean off his shoulders.

And then, out of nowhere, a boot hit him mid-chest, he couldn’t breathe, and he felt himself and the chair fly backwards—


	3. Chapter 3

Cody followed Jake Styles back into the controlled anarchy of the PA’s office. McCabe had just given them their marching orders: find Nick and/or Reston and the ledger—all three preferably. And Cody planned to stick with Styles no matter where he went until they accomplished that feat.

“Hey, Derek, how’s Shirley doing with that new computer?”

“Not so great the last I heard.”

Murray perked up like a dog on the trail. “You’ve got a computer system?”

“Yeah, right over here.” Mitchell led the way.

For the first time since leaving the market, Cody felt a glimmer of hope. He caught Murray’s eye and saw a hint of curious excitement before following Mitchell and Styles across the office to where an older woman was stabbing a computer keyboard and clutching a handful of notes torn from a pocket spiral notebook.

“Hey, Shirley; how’s it going?”

The woman rolled her eyes and jabbed another key before giving Jake Styles a gimlet eye, “It’s going great, Jake. Just… _great_.”

Styles rolled his lips together and seemed to consider the consequences of asking his next question. Finally, he took a deep breath, “Any chance you could run one of those searches the department was telling us this thing could do?”

She narrowed her eyes and nailed Styles with high beam lasers. “Sure, Jake. I’ll get right on that. Just as soon as I figure out where the ignition is on this Edsel, I’ll put it in gear and we’ll hit the highway.”

Murray cleared his throat to interrupt, “Excuse me, Miss, but maybe I could take a look? I might be able to help.”

The look she turned on Murray was no less intense despite lacking the sarcastic heat she’d used on Styles. “Honey, no one’s called me ‘Miss’ since 1960. For that, you just be my guest.”

Murray blushed right through to his ear lobes, but he took the woman’s seat when she stood up.

“Do you need my notes?” She leaned over and held the wrinkled, stubby pages in front of him, flashing a set of heavy bosoms in his face at the same time.

Murray looked like he wished the Earth would open up beneath him, but he pulled it back together. “Uh…no. But thank you all the same. That’s very kind of you. Very…kind. Uh…” He blinked hard several times before focusing on the computer.

Styles looked unsure and about to interrupt, so Cody held up one finger before shaking his head slightly. Murray was about to show off to the LA County PA’s office. Cody bit his bottom lip; Nick loved to watch Murray show the world just how good—how much _better_ —he was at working their own computer systems. Especially when the people had no idea that Murray was kind of famous. Cody wished Nick was here to see Murray in action, and he folded his arms to proudly watch their partner in his element.

In seconds, both Shirley and Derek Mitchell were sitting enthralled beside Murray’s flying fingers.

“Miss Shirley, this is a relatively user-friendly system. How long did the technician work with you?”

“About thirty seconds!” Indignant.

“Well, no wonder you’re having trouble. But really, I’ll be able to help you understand this in no time. It’s actually quite simple. Even Cody and Nick could be taught to use this.”

That earned Cody a sharp look from Jake Styles, but Cody just smiled that Murray was able to tease him. Being at the computer had improved Murray’s outlook significantly as he was now able to _do_ something to help find Nick. Cody dropped his hands on Murray’s shoulders and leaned over to look at the lines of data rolling up the screen. “How long is this search gonna take, Boz?”

Murray deflated just a little. “Well, it’s really multiple searches, Cody. Places associated with Reston. Known associates and family, and locations associated with those people. Then running an intersecting algorithm to see if there are likely sites given traffic and accessibility. At least an hour.”

Cody squeezed his shoulders briefly. “Like Arnie’s dad always said…”

Murray smiled slightly over his shoulder at Cody as they said it together, “Just do the best you can.”

Cody stood up and looked at Styles. “If we’re gonna check out Reston’s hiding places, you can’t go as yourself, right? The bad guys think you’re off the streets.” Nick might have a _little_ protection if the crooks still thought he was a cop.

Styles rubbed a finger under his chin and nodded thoughtfully

*****

Nick slowly came awake and tried to take a deep breath. Okay, bad idea. His ribs weren’t really cooperating. Instead, he tried a few shallow breaths and found that slightly more feasible. Swallowing was a little hard, and he briefly wondered if he’d made one of those thugs angry enough to choke him. Very strong likelihood considering how swollen his throat felt.

He attempted to take stock of himself. Everything hurt. Lying on his side, tied to the chair. Still couldn’t see, blindfold in place, lots of swelling around his left eye. Probably a broken nose—Cody would be mad. Jaws, chin, and temples throbbing, probably about twice their normal size, and his lips were split and bleeding. The sore throat. He could feel ribs rubbing in places they shouldn’t be, and he was actively trying to avoid deep breaths. And his chest, abdomen, and back felt like they’d been stomped.

And he was still tied up. He tried to flex his fingers and felt a little movement, some give in the ropes. He tried again, and the bindings moved a little more. Maybe the chair was busted. He briefly wondered if the thugs were still around, then decided that even if they were, what’s the worst that could happen? They’d beat him some more, ask more questions about Reston and Styles that Nick couldn’t answer even if he’d been willing. Maybe…kill him. If they didn’t get their information, they might do just that. Of course, even if he had the information and was willing to talk, they would probably still kill him anyway. So him being dead was likely the end game. He hated the idea that he would die for some stupid reason he didn’t even understand.

But Cody and Murray. They’d never forgive Nick if he got himself killed. They’d probably mope around and blame themselves. Nick knew that’s how he’d feel in a similar situation—like he hadn’t done enough. Or they would play the _If_ game: _If_ they’d done this or that, then such-and-such wouldn’t have happened, etc.

So Nick took another couple of shallow breaths and flexed his hands again, resolved to get out of this stupid, clueless mess he’d gotten himself into. ‘Cause he couldn’t let his partners feel that kind of guilt because of him. That thought was even worse than the idea of dying for no good reason.

*****

Cody glanced up at the floor indicator as they ascended to the _PH_ level. He glanced over at Jake Styles. “Did you inherit from a rich uncle or something?”

Jake shook his head slightly. “It belongs to a friend who’s out of town.”

Cody nodded briefly, thinking it must be nice to have friends like that. The elevator pinged, the doors opened, and Cody followed Styles through the hallway to the double doors of the penthouse. Inside, the apartment was sleek and stylish, just as Cody expected. Jake Styles’s residence completely matched the man he’d come to know over the last few hours.

“Make yourself at home while I change. There’s stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Cody’s stomach rolled at the idea of eating, but he glanced around the kitchen, noting that except for the extra space and modern appliances, it wasn’t much different from the galley on the Riptide. A place for everything and everything in its place.

“You ready to go shake some trees and see what falls out?”

Cody turned around and caught his breath.

Jake Styles had changed into a pair of khakis and a maroon sweater. Nick had clothes almost exactly like that except that his partner’s cargos usually had wrinkles instead of sharp, ironed creases. And in that outfit, the minor differences in Nick and the man in front of him were negligible. Anyone in King Harbor would think it was Nick Ryder standing in front of him.

“Cody?”

Cody shook his head to break the spell. “Sorry. You look even more like him now.”

Styles quirked a wry smile, just as Nick would have. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

Feeling the emptiness of Nick’s absence more than ever, Cody took a deep breath, “Yeah. Let’s go.”

*****

Nick tried to be quiet, but when a guy could barely walk—barely breathe—quiet wasn’t easy.

The chair he’d been tied to was as broken as his ribs, and he’d finally managed to get free from the ropes. He’d pulled off the blindfold and found himself in a small room with a table and two more folding chairs by an unlocked door. On the table was the stuff he’d had in his pockets, including his ID, and items he assumed belonged to the thugs.

And a set of keys.

Putting everything in his pockets except the keys which he kept a tight hold on, he listened carefully at the door. When he heard nothing on the far side, he cracked it open and peeked through. Seemed to be an empty hallway.

He took as deep a breath as his ribs would allow and eased the door open enough to slip through, glancing both ways. He didn’t see anything and even better, didn’t hear anything. He mentally flipped a coin and went right, hoping to find the car that belonged to the keys.

Up ahead, he heard faint voices and sidled down the hall toward them, keeping an eye out for a hiding place if he should need one.

“…that guy’s holding firm. Lot tougher than I gave him credit for.”

“That’s funny about him being undercover as a P.I. You’d think he’d be a bit more original. _‘No, I’m not a cop, I’m a Private Investigator!’_ ”

“You want to take these leftovers home later?”

“Nah, just stick ‘em in the fridge; we’ll have ‘em for lunch tomorrow.”

“How ‘bout a cup of coffee before heading back in there?”

“Sure, if you’re pouring.”

Nick rolled his eyes; they’d been kicking the crap out of him for hours, but they were talking about leftovers like it was a day at the office. Probably was for them.

He tried for a peek around the door frame, and the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut found the two thugs clustered around a counter top coffee maker. Nick slid past the open door while their backs were turned and headed to the door at the end of the hall, hoping it led to a garage.

Sure enough, through the chicken-wired glass, he saw the ugly green Oldsmobile sitting there, a closed garage door in front. Nick took one more glance at the open kitchen doorway and pulled open the door.

He fumbled the keys in his haste and general beat-to-a-pulp clumsiness before getting the car started. He heard a faint yell behind him as he floored the gas and blasted through the garage door into the street where other cars screeched to a stop to avoid hitting him.

He wrestled with the steering wheel for a few seconds before getting it under control and heading down whatever street he was on. A quick glance in the rearview and side mirrors showed the thugs throwing stuff at the car and kicking garbage cans in frustration.

Damn, his chest hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

Murray handed Jake Styles the list of potential hiding places that one Calvin Frederick Reston might use if he was desperate. The list totaled fourteen likely sites and twenty-three other possibles. “I’m sorry, that’s the best I could do.”

Cody sighed at the length of the list, but Styles didn’t seem discouraged. “No, this is a lot better than I expected. Reston has a huge extended family. And he’s been working with that bunch of crooks for a long time—lots of people might owe him favors.”

Murray perked up a little despite the obvious disappointment in his inability to narrow the list substantially. He glanced back up—and did double take. Cody sympathized; he kept having to remind himself as well that it wasn’t Nick. The clothes Styles was now wearing removed most of what distinguished him visually from their partner, and it was hard to remember that Nick was missing. Otherwise, this would almost seem like a regular case.

Boz spoke up, “Jake, you know Reston; are there any locations on the list that seem unlikely to you? I listed the cross reference that made the connection to Reston seem like a good possibility.”

“Yeah, maybe. I think his uncle sold this restaurant. And I’m not sure that his brother-in-law didn’t close this place. Of course, he might still own the building even if the business is closed down.” Styles offered a half grin—that looked just like Nick. “This is good, Murray. I think it’s gonna help a lot.”

Murray breathed a slightly relieved sigh.

Cody still felt tense and worried, but Murray needed a pat on the back, “Thanks, Boz. You did good.”

Murray shrugged slightly, clearly disregarding his contribution. “So where do we start?”

Styles— _not Nick_ —looked at him carefully. “You’re not gonna like this, but since you’re able to make this computer sit up and beg, could you do one of these cross searches on Ray Cinnamon and Paul Smelcer?”

Murray bristled in frustration. He managed to hold his tongue and turned to Cody for support. “I want to help you look for Nick; he’s my friend, too.”

Cody ran a hand through his hair. “I know, Boz. But what if it’s not Cinnamon’s guys that have Nick? What if it’s Smelcer? What if we don’t find that ledger? We won’t have anything to bargain with. I know you want to be out there beating the bushes, but we gotta have a fallback if we don’t find that ledger.”

Murray pushed his glasses up to his forehead and rubbed his eyes. Cody knew how hard it was for him to stay behind sometimes, but they needed a Plan B, and Cody hoped Boz would understand and agree. Murray finally nodded despite his obvious upset, “Okay. But you have to call me, Cody—even if you don’t find anything. I need to know.”

Cody smiled gratefully. He looked back at Jake Styles, “You ready?”

*****

Nick pulled the ugly Oldsmobile into a strip mall a few miles from the coast. The thugs had seen his ID; they wouldn’t have any problem finding the _Riptide_. Even his addled brain could add those two facts and get a total that equaled disaster.

Considering his balky ribs, he did a pretty decent job searching the car. Everything except some old napkins went in various pockets. He still didn’t know anything about who these guys were, but maybe Murray could piece something together with all these bits and pieces he was carrying back.

He locked the keys in the car and limped across the parking lot to a pay phone. He dropped in a quarter and dialed the boat, praying his partners were at home waiting on him.

No such luck. He left them a message and started limping down the street toward the best safe house he could think of.

About a mile down the road, a guy in a cement truck offered him a ride. Nick was a little surprised, considering how disreputable he must look.   He hadn’t even bothered sticking out his thumb.

“You okay, buddy? You look like you need a hospital.”

Nick looked at his Good Samaritan, “I’m breathing; I’m walking. Hospital can’t do much about the rest of this stuff anyway.”

The guy looked doubtful but managed a brief smile. “I guess. Least I can give you a lift. Where can I drop you?”

Nick gave him directions for the last few miles to his destination.

When they arrived, the guy tried one more time. “Are you sure? Hospital’s just another few minutes.”

Nick had to give him credit for the guardian angel gig. “No, thanks, but I appreciate the offer. My buddy says I don’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.”

“I’d say he’s right. Take care, man.”

Nick nodded and eased out of the cab. As the truck pulled away, he turned and looked at his home away from home, beyond glad to see it again. Now he just needed his partners to come get him—then he’d really be home. He took a slightly deeper breath and started across the lot.

*****

Cody was discouraged as he followed Jake Styles back into the crammed offices of the Prosecuting Attorney. They headed directly back to McCabe’s office, picking up Murray and Derek Mitchell on the way.

McCabe eyed the group. “Well, what have you found?”

“Nothing, J. L. Nothing on Reston, the ledger, or Nick Ryder. Cody and I searched the top five sites on Murray’s list. And I had other guys drop in on the other possibles. No dice.”

Mitchell interjected, “The Organized Crime Task Force has been noticing some _disquiet_ in the local ranks. They had a report of a disturbance at one of Smelcer’s warehouses down on Highland.”

McCabe nailed Mitchell with an intense, focused, _irritated_ glare. “What _kind_ of disturbance?” he demanded.

Mitchell glanced at his notes. “A greenish, four-door sedan smashed through a garage door and almost caused a wreck as it fled the scene. No make or model, but one of the other drivers said he thought the car was a GM. Lots of communication between interested parties after that.”

He growled, “Is that _all_?”

“‘Fraid so, sir.” Mitchell acted like he was used to disappointing McCabe.

“Mr. Bozinsky, how are you doing on that second list?”

Cody thought that Murray might be a little intimidated by the man’s bark, but Boz adjusted his glasses and answered in his normal voice and manner. “Well, this list is taking longer. It’s much more extensive with all the properties presently and previously owned by Paul Smelcer. Add to that Ray Cinnamon’s real estate and all their known family and associates, and the holding companies involved. The collating and cross referencing are taking longer to sort.”

Cody reached up to squeeze Murray’s shoulder in support.

McCabe softened slightly, “Nothing from your partner yet?”

Cody closed his eyes briefly, feeling swamped by despair. And almost immediately reminded himself that Nick was the toughest, most stubborn son of a gun he’d ever met. He’d find a way to survive even if it was just pure cussedness that sustained him.

“I should check the messages on the boat again.” Murray hesitated slightly as he reached for the phone on McCabe’s desk, but he got go-ahead permission with a wave of the Fatman’s cigar.

Cody stood waiting, not really expecting anything, but Murray’s eyes lit up. “Cody! Listen!”

Mitchell reached for the phone and put it on speaker. Cody felt a release in his chest when he heard Nick’s voice, breathy and worn out, echo through the room.

_“I’m going to see my girl. Pick me up when you can. And stay away from the boat if you’re not already there.”_

Cody’s hope surged—hell, it sky-rocketed! He grinned at Murray and grabbed him in a fast hug. “Let’s go.”

Styles caught his elbow, “Hang on, you two. We need back up. Your partner’s a witness now; he’s gonna need protection. And if Smelcer and Cinnamon find out where he’s holed up, then his girlfriend will need protection, too.”

Cody tried to swallow his laugh at the misunderstanding.

Murray grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “Nick doesn’t have a girlfriend right now.”

Mitchell pursed his lips, “But the message…”

The other two men in the room looked just as puzzled, but Cody was done standing around. “Get your backup and let’s go. Nick’s waiting on us.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Cody drove toward the _Harbor Tours_ arch at a speed that Nick would not have approved, not with his baby in Cody’s high-beams, but Cody doubted he’d fuss very much. Not today.

In the passenger seat, Murray looked both excited and anxious. Excited to find Nick again, but anxious that he had been taken by mobsters hours ago—a really long time in the hands of hoods like that. And Nick had sounded a little fried on the phone. But then again, he was alert and talking and apparently moving under his own power. Whatever had happened, Nick was probably in one piece.

Behind the Jimmy, Styles and Mitchell were in the Porsche, followed by a couple of patrol cars, no lights and sirens. No reason to warn the world they were coming in case un-friendlies were on the prowl, looking for Nick.

It was practically dark when Cody screeched to a stop near the _Mimi_. In half a heartbeat, he was standing in front of the cargo door, taking a deep breath. Nick just _better_ be here; he was gonna catch hell from his partners if he wasn’t.

Cody pulled the door back, hearing the rusty-sounding slide and praying his partner was inside. Silence greeted him, and he stood for a second, unable to see anything in the black interior. “Nick?”

A short breath of relief, “Cody.”

Cody jumped inside, feeling his way to the passenger couch. Murray clambered up behind. “Nick? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Nothing more except a few short breaths.

Cody felt along the length of the sofa till he found one of Nick’s questing hands. He helped him sit up, hearing the slight groan as Nick moved carefully. “I think he’s lying, Boz.”

A small grunt as Nick shifted a little more. “I’m gonna plead the fifth on that, big guy. Can we get outta here?”

Cody and Murray slowly backed out of the compartment, each lending Nick a hand as he carefully climbed off the couch and out of the chopper. Cody reached an arm around Nick’s back for support as his partner slowly limped over to the open doors of the Jimmy.

Once they got to where the dome light beamed out, Cody finally got a good look at Nick. Abundant bruises, dried blood, and swelling marred his usually handsome face, and the stiff way he held himself meant there was other damage as well.

“Geez, Nick, you need a hospital.”

Cody was glad Murray had said it; saved him from being the bad guy.

If Nick could have rolled his swollen eyes, he probably would have. “Boz, I stole a really ugly car and busted out of the bad guys’ garage. I drove that ugly car almost all the way here from east L.A., and I managed to hide out till you guys showed up. I’m not about to collapse on you or anything. Most of this is surface.”

Cody had to give Nick kudos for that explanation, but Cody was still leaning toward taking him to the hospital regardless. Jake Styles cleared his throat; Cody had almost forgotten that he and Mitchell were along for the ride.

“Smelcer might have goons watching the hospitals. We shouldn’t let him know you’re alive if we don’t have to. But we do need a statement and some photos to document this for the record.”

Nick flinched in surprise when Styles first spoke and then he did a double take when Jake stepped into the light. “You’re the guy. You’re Styles.”

Jake nodded slightly. “Yeah. Jake Styles, I’m an investigator with the P.A.’s office. I’m afraid this is all my fault.”

Nick was still staring at him out of the only eye open enough to see. “Wrong place, wrong time. We only decided to go to that market this morning.” He looked back at Cody and Murray uncertainly. “It _was_ just this morning, right? Not yesterday or…”

Cody rubbed Nick’s shoulder slightly. “Today. This morning.” Nick nodded and seemed to slump a little. Cody looked back at Styles and Mitchell. “What’s the plan? He needs checking out, hospital or not.”

“You shouldn’t go back to your boat; they’ve got to have your address. And even though I move around a lot, it probably wouldn’t be too hard to find my place.” Styles thought for a minute, but it was Mitchell who offered a suggestion.

“How about my apartment? Surely they wouldn’t look for you there?”

Styles bit his lip for a second, “That’s not bad, Derek.” He glanced back at Cody. “I don’t think it’s a good solution permanently, but it’s good enough for tonight. What do you guys think?”

Cody figured to let Murray decide; he’d been working with Mitchell most of the afternoon. And Jake and McCabe both seemed to trust the lanky blond. Plus, Nick was sinking, and he was Cody’s first priority right now. Finally, Murray nodded after a long second or two; maybe not a perfect solution, but as Jake said, good enough for tonight.

“Well, let’s get moving.” Cody and Murray helped Nick the rest of the way into the truck, and Murray held him steady while Cody hurried around to get in. Once that was accomplished, Nick leaned against Cody’s shoulder, and Murray covered him in his corduroy jacket before climbing into the back seat.

In seconds, Cody was following Jake’s sleek Porsche down the highway back toward downtown. For the first time since this morning, he felt the world turning in the right direction.

*****

Derek Mitchell had a normal apartment. Two bedrooms, bath, living room, and an eat-in kitchen. Nice building, about half way up by elevator. It looked lived in, not like Styles’s penthouse.

They spent the first half hour taking pictures of Nick’s injuries with Derek’s camera. Documenting everything for the record. Though Cody hated to see Nick on display like that, when they brought in the hoods who’d beaten him so badly, Cody wanted them to get what they deserved.

Then Nick started pulling stuff from his pockets that he’d collected from the car and the warehouse, items—including ID—belonging to the hoods who’d beaten him. Jake and Derek’s eyes lit up at the extra evidence.

By the time Nick got in the shower, he looked completely exhausted, so Cody stood close by the stall just in case. After the shower, Cody handled basic first aid to the cuts and bruises as Murray brought in a t-shirt and sweats provided by Derek. The clothes were a little tight on Nick, but it was a vast improvement from what he’d had on before. Those got bagged and tagged as evidence, too.

Nick was still moving gingerly when he came out of the bathroom, Cody right at his elbow in case he started to go down. Murray, Jake, Derek, two uniforms, and J. L. McCabe were in the living room. McCabe had a fat bulldog on the end of a leash. Dog and master bore a remarkable resemblance.

Jake stood up, still looking regretful. “Nick Ryder, this is my boss, J. L. McCabe.”

McCabe handed the leash to Derek and stepped forward to shake Nick’s hand. “I’m very, very sorry about all this, Mr. Ryder.”

If Nick could have moved easily, he would have shrugged and waved off the whole thing, arms and hands going in five different directions as he explained his thoughts on the subject. Instead, he settled for shaking his head slightly. “Nobody’s fault. Total snafu.”

McCabe also shook his head, “Still, I don’t like getting innocent people involved in our operations. I feel responsible. So does Jake.”

Nick took a shallow breath and leaned on Cody just slightly. “Haven’t been innocent since I was nineteen. Right, Cody?”

“Neither of us, buddy.” Cody knew from Nick’s economy of movement and few words that he was nearly at the end of his very long rope, and Cody surreptitiously reached an arm around to support his partner.

Murray crept up to Nick’s other side. “Nick, you need to be in bed.”

McCabe nodded immediately, “Of course, I’m sorry. I just wanted to introduce myself and offer my sincerest apologies for this whole mess.”

Cody and Murray had been gently herding Nick toward the spare bedroom, but he mumbled, “If it gets these guys in a cell, then it’s worth it. I’ll be fine.”

Jake Styles sighed, “Reston’s ledger will hopefully do that if we ever find it.”

Nick stopped and his one working eye narrowed slightly. “A ledger? That’s what this is all about?”

Styles regarded Nick curiously. “Yeah. Did you talk to Reston?”

Nick stood silently, clearly focusing inward. “What’d he look like?”

Cody had completely forgotten about the search for Reston and his damned ledger.

Jake focused on Nick, “Little guy, compact.”

“Kind of squirrely?”

Jake took a step forward, “That’s him.”

“It’s in the Willowbrook Branch Library, bookkeeping section, under ‘R’.”

Jake’s grin wasn’t quite as big as the one Nick occasionally got, but it was close. “You didn’t tell Smelcer’s hoods.”

Nick worked at a swallow, then, “I didn’t know that little guy was Reston, and those goons didn’t say they were looking for a ledger. I really didn’t know what they wanted. They just kept asking, ‘What did Reston tell you?’ without ever saying what they were looking for.”

Cody smiled at him ruefully. “You wouldn’t have told ‘em anyway, jackass.”

Nick glanced at him sideways. “No. I’m closed, rude, insensitive, and stubborn.”

Murray looked alarmed, “Oh no, Nick…well…just part of the time.”

Cody knew Nick would have laughed right then if he could have. As it was, his lips twitched slightly.

Cody broke into a full grin though, “We wouldn’t want you any other way, buddy. Come on, you’re going to bed.”

Nick’s breath was almost deep as he nodded slightly. The other men in the room bid the Riptide Detective Agency—all three of them—goodnight.

*****

Cody and Murray switched off during the night, one lying on the opposite side of the bed as Nick, the other in the chair keeping watch in case he needed something. Their partner never actually requested anything, but he didn’t rest easy either. Unsurprising considering the beating. Every time he shifted even a finger, he roused up a little and then took some time to get resettled. And then the whole process started all over.

About two in the morning, Jake poked his head in and waved good-bye. Cody would have preferred to be in at the end, getting the guys responsible for his partner’s injuries, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Nick right now. So Cody resigned himself to waiting for his partner to wake up enough for them to make some decisions.

Mid-morning, Nick started making sounds that he was really waking up. Murray was poking around in Derek’s kitchen, and Cody could hear him murmuring to the officers left to guard them from any unfriendly intrusions.

Cody looked at Nick. In the low light peeking through Derek’s blinds, Nick looked even worse than the previous night. The swelling had increased, and the cuts and bruises were starting to color dramatically. “How ya doing?”

Nick blinked the one working eye. “Oh, just fah-bulous,” coming out with his Wanda Wise voice.

Cody smiled at his tease, “Yeah, you look fah-bulous, too.”

Nick took a shallow breath, “Hey, man, it doesn’t matter if you win or lose; it’s if you look good while you’re doing it.”

Cody shook his head, “Then you got that down cold.” He paused and lifted one skeptical brow, “You know we got to get those ribs checked today. Set your nose.”

“Knew you were mad about that.”

“There are easier ways of winning this stupid contest.”

“Yeah. Listen, thanks for giving me a break on the hospital last night.” Nick paused for a second, “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Cody shrugged slightly, “My date cancelled last minute. And Murray was a little concerned.”

Nick almost smiled, “Yeah? I gotta thank him, too.”

Cody let it drag for a few seconds, “You had me kinda worried. You shouldn’t wander off like that.”

Nick worked on a swallow, and Cody bit his lips at the bruising around his partner’s throat.

“I’ll try not to get lost again.” Nick’s hand fell open at his side, and Cody reached to wrap it in his own.

“Be sure you don’t, buddy; I’m getting too old for this.”

“You and me both.”

Murray quietly poked his head in and then smiled when he saw them. “You guys awake?”

Cody grinned at him, “Yeah, Boz, we’re up.”

“How ya feeling, Nick? Hungry?”

Nick sighed, “A little. Not sure I can get my mouth open enough to eat though.”

“Scrambled eggs and a milk shake?”

Nick raised his head to look at Murray, “Yeah?”

Murray’s face blossomed into a huge smile, “Yeah. You want to come to the table or shall I bring it in here?”

Nick took half a second, “I should get up. Putting it off won’t make it any easier.”

Cody was still holding his hand, and he used their grasp to help Nick get vertical.

At the table, Nick managed to eat a little, and he told them what he remembered from the previous day. One of the officers took notes and started writing up the statement. While he was doing that, Murray and Cody recounted how they’d met Jake Styles and the rest of their day searching for Nick. After the explanations were complete, Nick read through his statement and signed it.

The three of them were lying around Derek’s living room watching game shows—Murray would have wiped the floor with the contestants _and_ the host—when the phone rang. The officer who answered handed the phone to Murray who had an extended conversation before smiling, hanging up, and explaining that Jake and McCabe had swept up the whole gang.

It all happened very quickly. McCabe got the county librarian involved in the middle of the night, and they found Reston’s ledger just where he’d told Nick it would be. During the early morning, judges signed warrants and arrests were made. Paul Smelcer had been taken off a private plane at the Van Nuys Airport, and Ray Cinnamon had been stopped at the Tijuana border crossing only an hour previously.

But the most important part of the conversation was that Reston’s ledger was all they’d hoped it would be, containing detailed information on drugs, prostitution, gambling, racketeering, and any number of illegal activities that implicated both Cinnamon and Smelcer. Although this would not erase organized crime in Los Angeles, it would certainly slow down a large corner of it for some time in the future.

Best of all for the Riptide Detective Agency, the most damning evidence that would be used in whatever trials that resulted would be due to the ledger and the testimony of Calvin Reston. Since Nick was only a witness to the crimes committed against his person and could not give direct evidence against the big boys, he was considered a low level target of their retribution which meant they could go back to their lives. Plus, it seemed that the bad guys still thought Jake Styles was the guy they beat senseless, so it was much more likely that Jake would be playing the role of low level target for a short while longer at any rate.

Cody was sitting on Derek’s sofa with Nick’s head in his lap as Murray explained the revelations of Derek Mitchell’s phone call. Cody washed his face with one hand while the other rested on Nick’s shoulder, gently massaging. “That’s a relief.”

Nick shut his working eye and worked at a swallow. “Yeah.”

Murray shot them a pleased smile, then focused on Nick with some pity. “You really need to get checked over, Nick.”

Nick sighed slightly, “Can’t we just let Doc do it back at the boat?”

Cody bit off his smile, “Doc doesn’t have X-ray vision.”

His partner sounded exasperated, “He doesn’t need it. The ribs are busted; I already know that. What are they gonna do at the hospital? Take an X-ray and tell me what I already know? They don’t even wrap ‘em anymore—we found that out last year, remember?”

Murray looked thoughtful, “Still, you could have a displaced fracture, a broken rib just waiting to puncture your lung. You’re going along just fine…and then you cough and _POW!_ You just punctured your lung and need a chest tube. That’s really nothing to mess around with, Nick.”

“Are you _kidding_ me, Murray?! You have _got_ to be kidding me! I dragged myself into that butt-ugly car, drove _through_ a garage door and almost all the way to the helipad yesterday! _Surely_ in all that running around, if I was gonna puncture a lung, I would’ve done it already!”

Cody tried to control his grin, but the back and forth between his partners and the return of Nick’s loud, verbose, and actually rather reasonable arguments only made everything right in Cody’s world. “I don’t know what kind of logic that is, but I think he’s got you there, Boz.”

Murray appeared to consider it. “Well, yes. I can see your point, Nick. But you could still have internal bleeding somewhere. The bruising on your torso is considerable.”

“Okay, just listen, Murray, ‘cause this is something I know from prior experience: bleeding _hurts._ ”

Murray’s face was skeptical. “If you’re not hurting, I’ll wear a dunce cap, Nick Ryder.”

Nick winced slightly and shook his head. “It’s a different kind of pain, man. A little help here, Cody?”

Cody was still fighting his smile, but he tried to get serious. “He’s right, Boz. The bleeding-kind-of-hurt is pretty distinctive. It’s sharp, and you just know something’s wrong.” Cody glanced down at Nick lying in his lap, “But Murray’s got a point, too. We don’t really know how bad you’re hurt.”

Murray looked triumphant while Nick looked drained and resigned. And Cody didn’t want to add any more to his already bruised shoulders. “So how ‘bout this: we go back to the boat and let Doc take a look. If he thinks we need to get you checked out at the hospital, then you go without any arguments.”

Nick perked up immediately and started to answer, but Cody held up a finger to interrupt before he got a chance. “And you don’t get to try and influence him by saying stuff like, ‘I don’t really need to go to the hospital, right, Doc?’”

Nick took half a second to think about it, but he gave in pretty quickly, probably figuring it was the best compromise he was likely to get.

Pretty soon, the three of them were back on the freeway heading for King Harbor. Cody couldn’t help but reflect on the highs and lows of the previous twenty-four hours. He glanced in the rear view and saw Murray with his head thrown back, a wide smile on his face, just enjoying the day and their companionship. Another glance at Nick in the passenger seat showed him dozing against the window, his face swollen and glowing with abnormal colors.

Cody turned back to the road, trying to concentrate on his driving. Nick was gonna be okay. They sort of helped catch some really bad guys. They still had a case when they got back to the coast. And they were together. All in all, not a bad day’s work.

 


End file.
